


the dead so soon grow cold

by EclipseWing



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, BAMF Dean and Sam, But actually in the reality of the Hunger Games World, Gen, I also mess with the canon relating to district 4 but who cares, I don't know, I don't know what the tenses are, I wrote this last year sometime and found it when I cleared out my old files, I'm Sorry, Legendary brothers, i think they jump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-02
Updated: 2015-06-06
Packaged: 2018-04-02 13:44:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4062157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EclipseWing/pseuds/EclipseWing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Dean’s the one they all forget about, right up until he turns around and throws a knife straight into Ruby’s heart)</p><p>A collection of short stories set in a SPN'verse that takes place in the HG universe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The dead so soon grow cold

_"Some kill their love when they are young,_

_And some when they are old;_

_Some strangle with the hands of Lust,_

_Some with the hands of Gold:_

_The kindest use a knife, because_

_The dead so soon grow cold.” Oscar Wilde_

 

**The dead so soon grow cold**

"Nobody ever volunteers from District 4." Haymitch tells her as they watch the reaping on the train to the Capitol. "They treat it like it’s some great honour." She wonders why he is sitting there with them and not drunk in his room most likely passed out.

"I thought they were a Career district," Peeta frowns.

"They are but they don't train the kids to fight like 1 and 2." Now she thinks about it Haymitch is slurring a little bit. "The rules of the district means that they have to take their position, hold their head high and do their district proud." there is a note of mocking in his tone, the same that Gale held when quoting Effie.

Later she watches through past games. After a while they end up muted and varying between playing at normal speed and being fast-forwarded. Her leg is starting to cramp as she watches a reaping from some fifteen years earlier. The child whose name is called reminds her of Prim. He's a young boy, and this is probably his first reaping. His jaw clenches stubbornly as he grounds himself before stepping forwards. He looks like he's about to march right up to the stand and punch someone, but his floppy bangs fall in his eyes and it fails to look intimidating, only cute.

Regardless he never gets there. His second step is barreled aside by an older blonde boy who shouts something out. The crowd stills and by the time then younger boy has managed to regain his balance, the other boy is once again shoving him away, gesturing over to where a dark haired, blue eyed boy and a short, scrawny kid chewing on a lollipop stand. The floppy haired boy stumbles over, and the older one ends up being the one to march forwards.

She's spent hours skimming through various Hunger Games. Each year has twenty-four tributes and each year has twenty-three dead. Soon there are one hundred, three hundred... She lost count long ago but for some reason she reaches for the mute button, turning the volume back on and preparing to watch these games through to the end.

The younger boy was the younger brother, and only later does she realise she sees something of herself in the tribute from years past. She knows he is likely to die, but she doesn't stop the playing.

It turns out the boy was from District 4. It makes her reconsider Haymitch's assumption that they didn't volunteer, but then thinks back to past years and realises that no previous tribute from 4 had volunteered.

It appears that there is where the similarities end. The guy is charming and well-liked when he reaches the Capitol. He wears silky material of a turquoise blue which danced like waves, but she saw only forest green which could be seen in his own eyes.

Katniss watches as it cycles through the various tributes training and then the smiling up at the crowd. The loudest cheers follow the blonde couple from one, both with eerily pale eyes. Their smiles are sharp and despite the white suit and innocent white dress they wear, it is as if they are already stained with blood. There are also high hopes for the other Careers: the boy and girl from 2. The girl has striking red hair and seems to play the bad girl image, flaunting lust and every other sin on her lips. The boy isn't much better, tall and striking and already with a nasty scar on his one cheek, curling around to his skin. It looks like his body is ripping itself open.

In comparison District 4 produces its usual Career material. The one girl is a suck up that trails the blonde from 1 with wide eyes. The boy is pretty, and the Capitol sigh over how he wouldn't make it to their beds. He flirts and chats with everyone, his smart-aleck tongue surprisingly making more friends than enemies. Yet he fumbles through training and ends up lifting weights in one corner while the other five Careers whisper behind his back.

It's quickly apparent that for all his suave and smirks, the boy from 4 is the Career pack’s weakest link. As if to prove their doubts, he scores a meager six in training. The Careers range eight to ten between them and the pair from 9 get a decent score for their skills with swords. The girl from 10 likes playing with knives while the boy from 10 seems to prefer playing with sock puppets than weapons. The rest of the tributes between them score an average of five or six, and Katniss can just see the betting for 4's male tribute dropping exponentially.

Then it is the games and the pods are rising up at the start in a wide circle. The arena is a ruined town, empty buildings with dead eyes staring down at the kids. To the one end a forest stretches up into the distance and a lonely road winds its way through the middle. There is a clock tower to the one end with one arm missing and the other perpetually pointing at four. In the centre of the courtyard where the tributes hover awkwardly on their platforms, was the Cornucopia, a crumbled structure made out of dull stone dusty with the red soil.

Everything runs as one would usually expect a game to run. There is a bloodbath that kills the boy from 5, the boy from 10, and both from 11. The boy from 4 clumsily knocks down the boy from 3, but it is 1 who stalks over to shove the guy away and the girlfriend who pins down 3 and kisses him, laughing as the poison she's already collected from the Cornucopia, her weapon of choice, is smeared all over her lips in a death kiss. It affects him immediately, and his muscles seize up, paralyzing him. Despite this it takes him another forty five minutes to die.

"You see?" the boy from 1 smirks at 4. "All you need to do is pick up the knife."

Looking alarmed 4 pushes himself up and stalks over past a dead tribute: the female from 9 who lies with some small metal pen through her throat, blood pooling around her. The other Careers are bickering over supplies and the girl casts 4 a narrow eyed glance when she thinks he's not looking.

He's the weak link, the bottom rung of their pack and even he knows it, though he hides behind smirks and his smart tongue. Katniss thinks his best bet would be to leave them now before they realise they might be better without him.

Like most years the Careers use the Cornucopia as a base. They venture out, but the other tributes have gone to ground. It's late in the second day when they finally get the scent of the girl from 6 in the depths of the town. They split to chase her down the ruined alleyways and buildings and everything seems to be going normally right up until 4's male tribute spins around the girl from his district and slams a short blade nobody quite knew he had into her stomach. She chokes, gasping for breath and he gives the blade a vicious twist before pulling it back. She slips to the ground, still coughing blood and he wipes the blade off on his sleeve, before leaving her thee. The stab isn't fatal but the blood loss will be, but it gives him to slip away, back to where the pair from 1 have cornered the mousy blonde frail looking girl from 6.

The boy, one of the oldest tributes at eighteen, has her pinned to the clock tower by the knife in her one arm. Her body is sagging and she screams and begs and he laughs, enjoying the torture.

"You're still playing?" 4 doesn't need to try hard to sound disgusted.

"Where's the squealing bitch?" the older boy looks up at him.

The lie slips so easily out of his mouth it makes Katniss wonder how much practise he had. "She gave up. Headed back to the camp."

The blonde girl rolls her eyes, and for a moment they look almost white.

That is when the canon goes off and the two from 1 shoot each other a glance and then down at where 6 still struggles feebly. The male from 1 pauses to make sure her canon sounds before heading hurriedly off, 4 trailing them and leaving 6's body crucified to the clock tower. By the time they get to the alley where 4's female tribute is slumped the blood has pooled outwards in a bloody halo. They have her body but no killer, and shrug it off. It's one step closer to their final goal anyway.

The tributes are down to six dead and eighteen left. The Career pack are thirsting for blood and whre she watches, Katniss knows that it won't be long before they head out again and another tribute dies. But for now the three returning share the news with the pair from 2 who were left to guard the camp. They spend the night lounging around the fire.

The Career pack lasts until the fourth day. There are no deaths in that time but the camera scans over the other tributes. The two from 7 have teamed up, and the girl from 12 takes the young boy from her district under her wing.

On the fourth day the girl from 8 makes a mistake, and her fire sends a smoke trail rising into the sky. With barely contained feral smiles the Career pack sets out, leaving 4 to guard their supplies. He waits for all of half an hour for them to vanish well out of site before grabbing a pack and loading up supplies for one.

Katniss feels a weird sense of relief that he's getting out now early. The camera alternates between the death of 8, her body ripped apart as if from a pack of wolves, to his dogged progress through the woods... In the wrong direction. He is following the trail the Career pack left earlier, heading straight for them. They are laughing and whooping over their kill, oblivious to the other boy.

As he gets closer he sinks into a limp, and suddenly he looks haggard and terrified. The four approaching stop and frown at him.

“What are you doing here?” The boy from 2 stalks forwards.

“The… the pair from 7 turned up. I couldn’t…” his act is flawless, and with a snarl 2 pushes him aside and breaks into a run back to the Cornucopia. The female tribute from 2 follows, as does the boy from 1. The girl however stays, slinking closer as if to get rid of their pack’s weak link, and Katniss wonders if this was what he was intending, because 4 rounds on her, act dropping.

There is a moment when her face registers surprise and then she is dead, body crumpling to the floor. Blood pools from the cut throat, running down the hill through the grass in twisting lines like a snake. 4 takes a moment to slow his breathing, before grabbing his pack and moving quickly the other direction. He circles around back to the town, and takes to the old buildings on the forest edge, making his way to the rooftops. The boy from 9 passes below, and 4 goes unseen. He relaxes then, having made his exit and left his mark.

The Careers find out about his betrayal soon enough. The boy from 1 flies into a rage and the pair from 2 scatter, and just like that the pack is dissolved, as if it never was. 1 starts hunting 4 with a vengeance, but it’s actually the pair from 2 who find him first, as he stalks the rooftop.

There is a fight and at some point the boy from 2 gets too close to the edge and he falls. His flailing hand catches the ankle of the boy from 4 and they go down together, the Career softening then landing for the boy with green eyes, but Katniss still hears the crack of breaking bones. 2 dies, although whether from the fall or from the knife buried in his head it’s hard to tell.

4 stumbles away with a dislocated arm that he clicks back into place, and the remaining tribute from District 2 flees, knowing that she wouldn’t win. 4 returns to his haunts on the edge of the town.

He can't avoid the others forever. The older boy from 1 stalks the shadows and gets the drop on him when he finally descends from the rooftops. They fight, with fists and blades and bastardised martial arts moves that Katniss has no idea where the boy from 4 learnt them. He's losing though against the strength and brutality of the older boy. He crumbles to the ground spitting out blood and 1 stalks towards him triumphantly. In the glare from the light his pale eyes look almost white.

"You're getting rusty," the boy smirks, blood dribbling down his nose, "Maybe I should teach you what it means to kill and maim."

"Go to hell," 4 pushes himself backwards, his lip split and bleeding.

1 just laughs.

Katniss thinks this might be it for him, and wonders if it is going to be the same for her, lying bloodied and battered in an alleyway. 4 forces himself to his elbows himself up, and then surprises them all as he kicks out 1's feet from under him, sending the older boy tumbling to the ground. Like a rabid wolf 4 seizes his chance, lunging for the kill and for a moment they roll on the floor for a few seconds, before 1 finally stills, 4's hands wrapped around his neck and choking the life from him.

He stands, and Katniss can see he is dizzy and in a bad way. He limps away, and now would be the perfect time for one of the others to ambush him, to end him before he ends them. Yet the other tributes are nowhere near, 9 hunting down the far side of town, the pair from 7 down by the road, the duo from 12 skirting the edge of the arena while the remaining tributes from 10 and 3 stalk the forest. The remaining tributes are the girl from 2, the boy from 6, the girl from 5 and the boy from 8.

The latter is the tribute who finds 4, and although he originally seems to have the intention to kill 4, he has a change of heart and they shares supplies and food. The rest are quickly seized from the Cornucopia by anyone brave enough. The remaining tributes grow more confident with the early dissolution of the pack and so somehow 4 and 8 end up sticking together.

"Why are you doing this?" 4 asks suspiciously as 8 helps to dab some sort of medicine 4 had stolen from the Cornucopia onto his bruised face. "I'm gonna' kill you eventually."

"We're all going to kill each other eventually brother," the brunette chuckles, "But for now you and I... We'd fare off better together."

For two sixteen year olds who had never really spoken before then, they make a well-oiled team. 8 favours an axe while 4 sticks to his knives. He obviously never showed the Game Makers that, because he can hit a flying bird at a distance of thirty feet.

4 and 8 head down to the road to try and deal with the pair from 7. Meanwhile on the edge of the forest a fire starts up, and the duo from 12 are forced to move closer to the town and other tributes. No one dies until the girl from 7 turns around and snaps the neck of her partner revealing a thirst for blood and a streak of crazy that she had been keeping well hidden until then. 4 stabs her with a knife before she can start monologue and laughing hysterically.

The girl from 2 and the boy from 6 get into a tussle, which is interrupted by the building they are in collapsing around them. 2 limps away relatively unscathed but the boy remains trapped beneath the rubble, and Katniss can see the bone sticking out. He's still alive, and it takes another hour for the canon to sound, and he's screaming nearly the whole time, struggling as if he might be strong enough to push the heavy chunk of rubble off him.

The Game Makers want to speed things up, bring together the remaining tributes. They release monsters: black goo which chokes the victim with creepy sentience, six headed snakes that grow two back for every head it loses and grotesque spectres that appear and disappear like ghosts, even look vaguely human.

"I thought I'd hate this," 8 shared with 4, "But it's actually simpler than I thought, just fighting and surviving. You don't have to worry about anyone else."

The blonde boy with green eyes says nothing, jaw tense.

"It kinda' feels pure."

4 and 8 kill their way through anything in front of them, but the new monsters really affects the pair from 12 who have managed to outlive the Careers. The girl is losing it, and her partner pays the price of her madness, when she sinks one of those silver swords into him. The poor girl is distraught, red hair limp and lifeless and she babbles about angels and voices in her head as she stumbles away through the trees.

4 finds her. He splits off in the dead of night, stalking out among the rooftops to keep track of the other tributes. He finds the girl from 12, and Katniss is witness to a first class example of how he managed to make himself appear weak and soon to die, when he talks her around until she thinks she has an ally, a source of comfort, and as she sinks into his embrace he sinks the knife into her stomach and she dies crying tears of blood.

4 cleans the blade and turns down towards the town, preparing to sneak back to his current ally from 8 but as he spins around, he finds the boy is already there, shaking his head.

"I've been thinking..." Katniss has no idea how the green-eyed boy can sound so emotionally detached, "That it's time we went our separate ways."

"You're really doing this," 8 looks slightly hurt, "And here I was thinkin' you were different from the rest. But you're a Career to the bone."

"I have to get back to my brother," 4 whispers, and Katniss has to crank up the volume to hear that. Moments later she winds it back down as the boy from 4 dissolves their alliance in the quickest way possible. By taking off the other boys head. Her hands cover her mouth in shock as the head rolls to the ground. The swipe was clean and scarily accurate, cutting between bone and severing muscle in one slash.

Just like that the tributes are down to six and the camera cuts to the interviews with the family members. She leans forward to watch the boy's younger brother, cute and innocent with floppy hair and wide hazel eyes which have an edge to them, and edge that says ‘if my brother doesn't return I'm going to kill them all. I'll kill you all.’

She doesn't know why he worries. Alone once again 4 is a predator, at ease in his environment. For the first time the cameras pick out the glint of gold at his throat where a metal amulet sits, a gift from his brother when they were children.

On the ninth day of the games they release monster hounds in the woods. Their howls ring through the night and in the morning the blonde girl from 10 is dead, chest ripped into ribbons.

A second girl dies that way, the well-spoken brunette who had been trying to be on everyone and anyone's good side by selling something illegal. She was actually meant to be 4's kill, and somehow she ended up on his tally, because there was no way she would have been in those woods if she hadn't been running for her life already from a much more adept predator. He had chased down the girl from three, leaves crunching underfoot. She finally stumbles and he catches up with easy strides, blade catching the light as his face sinks into a mask.

He pins her down, straddling her body and ignoring her desperate attempts to kick him. The knife in his hand flashes towards her throat and her struggles intensify. That is when the baying starts, sending chills down the spines of the viewers behind their screens, even safe in their homes. 4 stiffens in realisation at what is coming. Katniss sees a flash of deep seated fear or terror and for a moment he seems to have forgotten about the games, the hunt, and is somewhere else entirely.

"No!" the girl actually appears more desperate when he comes back to situation at hand, loosening his grip. She lets out a scream as he pushes backwards off her, and then attempts to scramble up after him.

She isn't quick enough. The hounds are on her in a shot.

The cameras pan into where 4 has made it up the nearest tree in almost record time, "See you in hell sweetheart," he whispers, so quietly it is barely audible to Katniss, sitting and watching, but then the small throwing knife catches the light like some heavenly justice and 3's screams are silenced. 4 sits in the tree and she can see his limbs trembling and even once the hounds leave he stays up there another two hours.

The girl from 5 who has been hiding and using her various skills to stay off the other tributes radar meets her end at the black goo which chokes her and wraps her in its embrace. The boy from 9 finds her body before the canon has gone off, still thrashing and gasping for air and the dark skinned boy ends her plight by sinking a silver blade into her side.

Then suddenly, eleven days in and there are three of them left. 4 and 9 meet first and fight with silver blades flashing. 4 has the advantage, able to dart inside where 9's blade can't cut him and that is how the other boy dies, gutted from shoulder to waist and blood staining the ground in a messy, gory kill.

2 uses the opportunity, appearing before 4 can recover and tackling him down. His knife sinks into her side but she laughs and tosses it away. Weaponless he goes for 9's silver sword and lunges but she is fresh and he is not.

She twists his arm and the blade clatters to the ground. She spins him around until he kneels before her, throat bared and one hand traces along his chest.

"Who's have thought you were hiding this all underneath a pretty face?" she sneers, "Shame I didn't see it earlier because you and me lover, we could have gone far."

The light changes suddenly, as if in preparation for the victor, and she glances up, and 4 pulls himself backwards. She falls with him and they both crash into a glass window, the shards falling around them like rain.

His hands tear on the fragments, but he finds one and goes for the kill. A few minutes later he staggers to his feet in the sunlight, the shine hanging around his head like an angel's halo even as the blood drips off him, staining his clothes and skin like a demon out of the darkest corners of perdition.

Looking back everybody laughs over how they knew about the ploy. They had known he would win and there had never been any doubt.

Curled up Katniss wonders if that could be her, returning home to her sibling, and a small gold mockingjay pin glints like a promise to her mom, to Madge, to Prim... Just like the golden amulet that promised 4's return to his brother.

She asks Haymitch about him. He laughs. "Sweetheart you and him, you're nothing alike."

She asks where he is now. "Back at his district with his brother and friends. He used to mentor but after his golden prodigy won a few years back he hasn't been back to the Capitol and the Capitol hasn't bothered them. They know not to touch Sam or Dean Winchester with a 10 foot pole."

"Which one was he?" She queries.

"Dean won when he volunteered for his brother. Two years later Sam volunteered for his brother's friend and walks out, last man standing."

"I thought you said they don't volunteer in District 4."

They don't. Those brothers are the exceptions to everyone's rules. So don't you go thinking you're anything like them. They are dangerous and you... You're well..." he considers her and decides not to continue that sentence lest he end up with a knife through his hand, "Are you prepared to kill sweetheart? Are you?"

She doesn't know how to answer that and Haymitch walks away in search of alcohol. To his back she whispers, mockingjay pin in hand, "I promised."

Katniss Everdeen always keeps her promises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> District 1: Luxury Items Lilith Alistair   
> District 2: Granite and Peace Keepers Abaddon Lucifer  
> District 3: Electronics Bela Victor  
> District 4: Fishing Dean Ruby  
> District 5: Electricity Meg Tom  
> District 6: Transportation Jake Lily  
> District 7: Lumber Andy Ava  
> District 8: Textiles Benny Madison  
> District 9: Grain Raphael Naomi  
> District 10: Livestock Garth Jo  
> District 11: Agriculture N/A  
> District 12: Coal Samandriel Anna  
> District 13: Graphite and Nuclear N/A
> 
> Lilith gets her pool of blood while Alistair gets choked to death. Lilith also dies before Lucifer does.  
> Lucifer falls from the roof like he falls from Heaven. Abaddon just dies last because I like her. The scene sorta’ mimicked the one in 9.02 where she goes on about wanting to possess him.  
> Bela gets killed by hounds while Lilith kills Victor (Hendrickson) slowly and painfully.  
> Ruby gets stabbed by Dean.  
> Meg gets killed by Leviathan black goo. Tom (who was her brother back is S1) just dies and is forgotten about.  
> Jake (the strong psychic kid) gets crushed to death because he isn’t strong enough to escape. The other girl, Lily, (another psychic kid) ends up dead pinned to the church/clock tower like in the show.  
> Ava kills Andy and then gets killed herself. (Both were psychic kids).  
> Benny gets beheaded by Dean while Madison gets killed ‘as if by wolves’ being that she was a werewolf in the show.  
> Naomi dies with the silver angel pen through her throat. Raphael gets killed by Dean but ends up gutted much like Castiel made him explode into little gory lumps.  
> Garth just goes MIA, while Jo gets killed by the hell hounds.  
> I couldn’t be bothered to think up two for 11 so they died in the blood bath.  
> Samandriel gets backstabbed by a friend and Anna goes crazy and Dean/Michael kill her.  
> I didn’t have the heart to kill Gabriel or Castiel so they’re back in District 4.  
> The arena is based on Cold Oak where Sam had his psychic kid showdown.


	2. Yet each man kills the thing he loves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (You don’t volunteer in District 4. Dean’s never followed the rules)

_“Some love too little, some too long,_

_Some sell, and others buy;_

_Some do the deed with many tears,_

_And some without a sigh:_

_For each man kills the thing he loves,_

_Yet each man does not die." Oscar Wilde_

 

**For each man kills the thing he loves**

You don’t volunteer in District 4.

Those are the rules, the unspoken, unwritten law. District 4 might not train their kids to fight, but they could and would if pushed.

Dean knew that you don’t volunteer in District 4 but Sam was always the exception to Dean’s rules.

District 4 held its fair share of victors. Nowhere near as many as District 1 and 2 which had stolen many more from them, by the kids who were trained on the thrill and adrenalin of the fight and kill and the taste of blood and victory on their tongues. In comparison, John Winchester had trained his boys on the rush of the hunt and the hard work and skills needed to solely keep them alive, keep them fighting.

In retrospect there wasn't much difference.

Mary Winchester had died when Sam and Dean were young in circumstances that nobody knew (except for John, but he wasn't talking and even when he did nobody believed him) leaving the two brothers orphans.

"Freakin' mutations man," the older brother skidded to a halt, sending leaf litter flying. "I hate dogs." he rubbed at a nasty gash on his head, shaking his head like a dog and sending a crimson drop of blood flying.

"Or maybe you just hate your slow reflexes." his younger brother bounded into view, floppy hair flying.

"Hey! I've got reflexes like a cat!" Dean promptly stumbled over a loose log and leaf litter on the forest floor, His arms whirl winding as he struggled to maintain his upright position

"Got reflexes like somethin'" Sam snickered.

Dean lunged for his little brother and Sam darted out of the way. He was at the stage of growth where his form was lanky and unco-ordinated but with startling efficiency he lashed out with one arm, tackling Sam around the middle and sending them both crashing to the ground.

"Haven't had a hunt that good in months," Sam laughed, spitting dirt out of his mouth.

His older brother rolled over. "Dad will be pleased."

Sam scoffed. “Dad? Dad’s drunk off his ass. He doesn’t care.”

Dean frowned. “It’s reaping day Sammy, give him a break,” he brushed leaves from his jacket.

The younger brother curled his lip. “If it’s not reaping day it’s the day mom died. If it’s not that it’s because a hunt went bad, or because he’s got a drop on what killed her. There’s always something wrong and every time you just let it slide.”

“Because I am a good son,” Dean snapped. “And dad trained us to look after ourselves.”

“He trained us like soldiers Dean!” the twelve year old was almost whining, but this was an old argument for them. “When I told Dad I was scared of the thing in my closet, he gave me a .45."

“Well, what was he supposed to do?"

"I was nine years old. He was supposed to say, 'Don't be afraid of the dark.'"

“Don't be afraid of the dark? What, are you kidding me? Of course you should be afraid of the dark! You know what's out there!"

They paused glaring at each other and Dean was the one who turned away first. “Look, can’t you just get on with him… for me?”

“Get on with…” Sam began angrily, “You don’t get on with him, and you just obey his every instruction like his blunt little instrument.”

Dean winced.

“I’m sorry,” Sam seemed to have realized he had taken it too far. “I… I didn’t mean that.”

“Yes you did,” Dean snapped. “You know, for all your complaints you’re just like him, you know that? I mean… I’m the one who copies his music, now owns his car… but you… you’re the one who gets an idea into your head and won’t let it go.”

“This isn’t even about dad, is it?” Sam sighed, “This is about the games.”

“Shut up.”

“No, Dean… we’re both in there this year and I swear to God if my name gets called out and you do something stupid and volunteer…”

“Our names are only in there once,” Dean snapped, stiffly. He wished he hadn’t remembered it was the reaping, because the day had been going so well until then.

“As are Castiel’s and Gabriel’s.”

“Gabriel is nineteen. He’s no longer being entered.”

“Your boyfriend is still fifteen.”

“He’s not my boyfriend!”

Sam let himself smile at managing to distract Dean’s attention. “So when I came home from school the other day, and you and him were sitting at the opposite ends of the sofa with rumpled clothes and messy hair you weren’t making out?”

“He stole my book!”

“That Dr. Sexy book Gabriel gave you? It wasn’t even in the room!”

“He wouldn’t tell me where it was! And then he threatened to burn it!”

Sam let the conversation fade back into idle chatter, trying to ignore the tension in the air of the upcoming reaping.

He knew that no matter what his older brother said or promised, he would step forwards to take their places every single time, and he prayed that none of their names would come up, because it would be the equivalence of the death sentence for his brother.

It might be a death sentence for his father too know he considered it, because there was no way John would last long without Dean there to support them. But Sam thought he was almost at the point that he wouldn’t miss the drunk man.

“You ever think,” he began conversationally as the soil turned to sand under their feet, “That if there had been a little less Tequila and a little more hunting we…” he stopped, not sure what he had been going to say.

Dean just shot him a weird look, “Yeah,” he said, surprising Sam. “But which do you prefer? A dead beat father and the occasional hunt over the borders for adrenalin and money, or being dragged around following the paying jobs,” he shrugged. “Both suck pretty bad.”

Sam opened his mouth to reply and then closed it again, staring down at their home. “Aw crap,” he muttered.

Dean followed his gaze. “Samuel’s in,” his eyes darkened, “I though Dad forbade him from visiting.”

They stepped another few paces closer to where John was standing, surprisingly sober, talking to an older bald man. Three kids milled about him, two boys and a girl.

The girl’s eyes slid past and spotted them first. “Hey guys,” she chirped, smiling.

Sam smiled back and Dean just nodded briskly. “Gwen,” he greeted, “Christian, Mark.”

A sallow faced boy with dark hair and thin lips nodded in return while the blonde haired teen just said nothing… as usual. Mark was like that.

“Ready for the reaping?” was Samuel’s greeting and Sam replied before his brother could snap something back. He was never quite sure why Dean and Samuel never got on, but it was better not to let anything bad come out of it.

“Yes sir!” he replied.

“Where have you been?” John snapped as his own personal greeting. “It starts in an hour and you still need to register, to get cleaned up…”

“Then we won’t keep you,” Dean interjected, and practically dragged Sam away. He managed a weak wave at Gwen who rolled her eyes and turned away.

The Campbell’s had been their mother’s family, and they were pretty well known. Apparently the Winchester’s had also been big news, originally from District 2, but after Henry Winchester died and John got sent off to District 10, there was a sudden lack of interest in them. Any respect the name might once have held fell through once John turned to drinking and Sam would probably admit that he’d prefer anonymity to being famous.

“Dean,” Sam whispered to his brother, as they got changed, “What if my name gets called out?” it was a deep seated fear that he couldn’t shake, but he didn’t know if it was for himself or his brother.

“It won’t,” Dean said with conviction. “And if it does…” he shook his head, “It won’t,” he repeated instead.

“You can’t volunteer for me,” Sam said, trembling slightly. “You can’t. It goes against everything…”

“It won’t come to that,” Dean ruffled his hair affectionately, and hiding his own emotions behind a grin. “I’ve gone through four years unscathed, Gabe all six and Cas three. We’re all still here, right?”

Castiel joined them outside. He was a quiet boy, with blue eyes and dark hair, almost the opposite of his hyper exuberant older brother who wrapped an obnoxious arm around Sam’s shoulder, and sucked loudly on a lollypop in his ear.

“Mornin’ moose,” Gabriel chirped, and Sam shoved him off. Dean and Cas were giving each other what Sam mentally called the profound bond look, and Gabriel just referred to as ‘sex eyes’. “How’d the hunt go?”

“Well the black dog is dead,” Sam shrugged.

Gabriel sighed, “Black dog? Who the hell decided to call it a black dog?” he glanced between them. “You two are so uninventive.”

Most of the mutations and monsters they hunted were unnamed. John used to work as a mechanic keeping the boats running for District 4’s main employment of fishing, but after the death of his wife he had dropped into private hunting, chasing down monsters in the woods and often just over the border. Sam and Dean had been raised into it, and now, still teenagers themselves, did their own jobs, despite Castiel’s protests that they were ‘too young’.

Since most of the mutations were nameless, the brothers had begun to come up with names for the various creatures. Black dogs were literally big, black dogs with a thirst for blood and an odd penchant for preying on cattle. That had been Dean’s contribution, while nobody could quite remember (or maybe they didn’t want to know) who had named the flesh eating monkey a rougaru who went most of its childhood being cute and cuddly before sprouting fangs and a desire for blood. Personally Sam thought Gabriel might have had something to do with that name.

They’d also had a nasty run in with an invisible wolf that remained nameless, mainly due to Dean’s dislike of the creature after he almost got mauled to death by it. Sam was all up for training it and calling it Growly, but Sam had had to shoot the thing in the head, producing black blood and a non-existent body. To this day they weren’t sure what had happened to it.

“We still haven’t found a unicorn!” Sam commented brightly, as they joined the queues to be registered. A sharp prick of blood and then he was hustled off to his own section, suddenly aware that he was alone.

Gabriel had dropped back to where the spectators stand, this being his first year where he was ineligible for the reaping. Sam spotted Dean and Cas sharing one last emotion filled glance before splitting off to their own corners of the reaping hall.

Sam suddenly felt sick, and wondered why he could not shake the feeling that something bad was going to happen.

He prayed that none of their names were read out. The woman standing on stage smiled through layers of white and pink and gaudy make-up, all the way through the film.

The film wasn’t enjoyable at all. It was a reminder that despite how the Capitol showed off, despite how they lauded about the Games every year, it wasn’t a reward.

It was a punishment.

She pulled out the female tributes name first. Sam recognized the girl named, she was a year or two older than him, with blonde hair that was no longer blonde, instead dyed to a dark brunette. She stalked up and raised her head high, looking calm.

Sam knew it before she read it out. He saw the hand reaching into the bowl and the slip of paper, and he just knew it was his name.

He didn’t need the words to confirm what he already knew, through some weird premonition, but they rang out anyway.

“Sam Winchester.”

He swallowed, and promised that he would be brave, he would be strong, and he would do his district proud. He held his head up, beginning the walk to the podium.

He made it two steps before Dean pushed him aside. “Go to Cas and Gabe,” Dean was telling him, seriously, “Go stand with them, I’ve got this, okay Sammy? I’ll do this…”

You don’t volunteer in District 4. Those are the rules. You accept your position, hold your head high and do your district proud. Except Dean knew that Sam would spit and dig his heels in but it was okay because he could do it... Sam would do it and might even come out on top, if it wasn’t for the fact he was twelve, and still a kid and Dean couldn’t let Sam go into that arena.

Dean was the good son, and no matter how many times he had vowed to never let Sam into the arena, Sam had never expected him to go against all the rules, all the unspoken regulations and be the disobedient son for a change. It was Sam who rebelled; it was Sam who rebelled and fought against every decision their father had made, Sam who would do something so stupid and idiotic because he was sick of following orders.

Not Dean.

“I volunteer,” Dean stepped forwards, not looking at Sam. For a moment Sam didn’t get it, never quite expected it to happen, and then by the time he did, and by the time he lunged forwards to pull Dean back, because he won’t let Dean die, just so he could live, Castiel is already there, pushing him back.

“It will be okay kiddo,” he heard Gabriel say, and Sam just wanted to stab him with something sharp. “Your stupid brother will make it out alive or I’ll kick his ass.”

The last view Sam had of his brother before Dean was marched away was of Dean looking resolute and perfect, tussled hair and looking almost angelic in the light on the beach, gold glinting at his throat where the amulet sits.

Sam had given him the necklace when they were eight and twelve and Dean first stood up for the reaping. It was to bring him good luck and protection.

It seemed almost ironic now.


	3. The brave man with the sword

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (And if Dean’s scared of dogs after that day… Sam doesn’t say anything)

_“Yet each man kills the thing he loves_

_By each let this be heard,_

_Some do it with a bitter look,_

_Some with a flattering word,_

_The coward does it with a kiss,_

_The brave man with a sword!”_ Oscar Wilde

 

**The brave man with a sword**

Dean shuddered and Sam drew back in alarm. “I’m sorry, am I hurting you?” he mumbled.

The blonde shook his head, biting his lip and tasting blood. “Where’s Dad?” he groaned, “S’mmy?”

“I’m here Dean,” Sam moved forwards again towards his brother’s crumpled form. His hands were red and it seemed like everything was scarlet. Dean’s clothes, his side… the blood ran into the waterlogged soil, staining that red too.

It wasn’t even a pretty red… it was a deep brown crimson, vivid and vibrant and so, so alive, when Dean was anything but.

Another shiver wracked Dean’s body and Sam pressed closer, trying to stem the blood flow from where torn clothes and mud revealed jagged claw marks up his torso. “It’s okay Dean,” Sam lied, “It will be okay, Dad will come…” he looked up, hoping to see said person appearing through the forest just in time, but the trees were silent, whispering and watching them with grave eyes.

“S’m…” Dean mumbled again, half-conscious. “D’d we get it?” he asked, eyes flickering beneath closed lids.

“Yeah,” Sam whispered, lips dry. “You shot it… it’s dead.”

“S’good,” Dean’s breathing slowed and Sam lurched upright.

“Dean! Dean? No, Dean stay with me?”

His bloodied fingers scrambled for Dean’s wrist, leaving bloodstains across Dean’s pale skin. A pulse fluttered weakly, barely there.

“Dean… don’t leave me… Dean! Dean?”

 

_Twenty-Four Hours Earlier_

“You’re the guy from District 6 right?”

Their father hummed in confirmation.

“That’s transportation, huh? How did you get a permit to move here?”

John shrugged. “I’ve always travelled a lot,” he said, vaguely.

“Then you’d know Bobby Singer?”

“Maybe.”

Rufus Turner narrowed his eyes at John. “Getting answers from you is like pullin’ teeth, I swear Winchester…”

There was a clatter and a squeak from where Dean tried to stop Sam from barging into the room.

Rufus’s eyes drift towards the doorway where the brother’s lurked, out of sight. “You got kids?” he asked.

“Two,” there was pride in John’s voice, “Ten and fourteen.”

“Jesus,” Turner sighed, “You travellin’ with two kids? One’s reaping age too… what do the Capitol say ‘bout that?”

“Look, you said you had a job for me,” John snapped, “So either give me the damn job and stop asking me questions about my life or leave. Your choice.”

There was a chuckle from the other man and he leaned closer, ignoring the angry outburst. “You know, records show that you were born in District 2. But when your daddy died they shipped you out to District 10 like the daddy’s boy that you were. How’d they arrange that huh?”

“How did you know that?” John demanded stiffly.

Rufus shrugged, smirking, “I got friends in… funny places. The things they hear…”

There was silence and hiding outside, Sam shot Dean an excited look. Dean frowned.

“My father worked for the Capitol. I don’t know what he did, but after he died they sent me back to live with my mom.” John’s voice was icy. “Now about this job…”

Rufus knew when to withdraw and he pulled out sheets of paper from his pocket. “Somethin’s maulin’ people who live along the border fence. Little kids turning up dead… ‘course nobody cared until this one doctor got killed and now everyone wants it dead. But the thing is, there’s nothing there.”

“What do you mean ‘nothing there’?”

“Exactly that. Plain daylight, lots of people, and this one guy falls to the ground screamin’. And right before their eyes he gets torn to pieces but there’s nothing there… at least that they could see…”

John looked sceptical, “You’re telling me that an invisible beast is killing people up on northern border?”

Rufus held his hands in the air, “Hey man, I’m just passin’ on the news. You’re the one who deals with this kind of stuff.” He snorted, “Mechanic my ass. You kill monsters and move around the country, and the Capitol turn a blind eye because they don’t want to admit to what’s out there.”

John ignored him, snatching up the paper, “Thanks for the job. I’ll get it sorted. Find some flour or something… Dean! Sam! You can come out now!”

There was a muffled thump and a curse and Sam came skipping out. He looked about to ask something but cast a wary glance at Rufus.

“I’ll be on my way then,” Rufus glanced between the kid and John, and then at the corridor where another kid was brushing himself off after having been shoved to the floor by his exuberant little brother. “Be seeing ya’ Winchester.”

“Don’t let the door slam,” John called after him.

The door slammed shut.

“Can I go on this hunt?” Sam chimed, almost on cue.

“No!” Dean protested, “Sam’s ten!”

“You were eight!” Sam snapped back, “I want to go! I can shoot better than you can!”

“You can’t!” Dean snapped in reply.

“Boys!” John growled, “Sam, I thought you didn’t like hunting?”

“I don’t like the moving,” Sam said with all the logic of a ten-year old. “I wanna’ stay here. I’ve got friend’s here.”

“We’ve been here four months,” Dean grumbled, “How did you make friends that quickly?”

“You made friends with Gabriel,” Sam stuck his tongue out at his brother.

“He’s not a friend,” Dean complained, “The guy is a lying backstabbing trickster!”

“Then why do you hang around with him all the time! It’s not because of his shy little brother!”

“Enough,” John’s tone decided everything. “Sam, you can come if you want to, but if I give you an order, I expect it to be followed out.”

“But Dad…” Dean protested, and was silence with a glare. He shut his mouth. “Yes, sir,” he said, dejectedly.

“Yes sir!” Sam said brightly, and he shot Dean a triumphant grin.

 

_5 hours earlier_

“Do you think we would be able to train the dog? We could keep it as a pet. It’s not like anybody would see it and notice it.”

“Sammy it’s a monster that feeds on humans.”

“But just think about it! Our own invisible guard dog. We could call him Growly…”

“First of all Sam, the monster is an ‘it’ not a ‘him’. Secondly what sort of name is Growly?”

“Boys! You wanted to come on this hunt, now stop chatting and help me track this monster down!”

 

_2 hours earlier_

“Sam?”

“Yeah?” the ten year old grumbled, trailing dejectedly behind his brother.

“The weather sucks,” Dean told him.

“You interrupt just to tell me that?” Sam spat wet hair from his mouth. It was times like these that made him want to get it cut short like Dean, but he took a weird sense of pride in rebelling against Dad and his ‘soldier’ attitude for them, and one of those things involved long floppy hair.

“Interrupted you doing what?” Dean trudged beside him through the mud, “Thinking?”

“I know it’s a foreign concept for you,” Sam grumbled, another drop of rain running down the side of his face and dripping off his cheek.

Dean just looked alarmed and a little proud. “You’re snarky for little squirt.” He said. “I trained you well.”

“I’m not little!” Sam protested, “I’m ten!”

“Yeah, _little_ ,” Dean emphasised the last word. “I wish Dad had left you at home.”

“To be babysat by your friend?” Sam scoffed. “No thanks.”

“Just because Gabe trapped you in a cupboard,” Dean sighed.

“And stole my school notes. And dyed my clothes. Dean your friend is jerk. And his brother is weird.”

Dean shrugged, “Can’t argue with you there. Cas is a quirky guy.”

“Castiel,” Sam corrected. “That’s his name.”

Dean shrugged it off. “Too long,” he said dismissively. “Ain’t that right Sammy?” He wrapped an arm around Sam, drawing him closer in a side hug and Sam squirmed uncomfortably, trying to push him off.

“What’s up with you two?” John’s sharp tone drifted back towards them, “Quiet down. This is a hunt, not a game.”

Sam broke free of Dean glaring, while Dean shut up, suddenly all serious and business-like, as if he was twenty-four and not fourteen.

Up ahead, already engaged in the upcoming hunt, John didn’t notice. If he did, he would have stopped and stared at his child, already so old and with the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Dean practically raised Sam, ignoring John’s obsession with tracking down monsters after his wife died. The pair had been born in District 10, but that had never made much difference to their father who had uprooted them while they were still young children and begun moving them around.

The Capitol knew. It was stupid to think the Capitol hadn’t realised several people had taken on the task of killing the mutations that ran wild in Panem, most of the monsters left over from the first rebellion. Most were harmless, and Dean and Sam had made a game when they were children of getting the Jabberjays to carry messages between them. Others were wild and savage things, escaped from who-knew-where and occasionally even breeding and setting up a stable population of the things.

It was stupid to think that the Capitol didn’t know, but they kept silent. John did them a service for free, and the name Winchester carried weight in some circles. So they kept moving and kept hunting.

They settled for some time in District 6 and the boys had been sad to leave (although Sam would argue Dean just missed the big black car he had fallen in love with and nicknamed ‘baby’) the district had become the closest thing to home they had known since District 10, John mostly dumping them at a grumpy mechanic’s garage going by the name of ‘Singer Salvage’.

“Do you think we can stay here?” Sam had asked Dean, a few weeks after they arrived in District 4. They were still the oddities, and despite their distant relationship to the Campbell’s, the family vouching for them, they mostly went ignored with the exception of the irritating sweet-obsessed kid who wouldn’t leave Dean or Sam alone, and his wide blue-eyed brother who trailed after him like a lost puppy.

“I don’t know Sammy,” Dean had whispered, smiling weakly at his brother. “I kinda’ hope so.”

(Later, when asked why he volunteered, Dean would smirk and talk about how proud he was to be from District 4, and the words wouldn’t be a complete lie).

But John didn’t notice any of that. His mind was focussed on the hunt.

It was emotions like that which would get you killed.

 

_1 hour earlier_

“When is dad going to be back?” Sam whispered to Dean.

“Shh,” Dean hissed, “Just stay quiet.”

Sam glared at him from where he was crouched in the undergrowth, “Dad said he’d scare the beast towards us and we shoot. He said…”

“I know what dad said!” Dean snapped. “Now quiet!”

For a long moment they were silent. Sam was shivering slightly next to his brother.

In the distance, something howled. Dean elbowed Sam and the pair sat up slightly straighter, hands tightening their grips of their weapons. “Look sharp,” Dean whispered to his brother.

He could hear his breathing, loud and laboured, and wondered if the invisible hound could hear it too.

In the distance were was cracking as twigs broke beneath heavy paws. Another howl which twisted into a barking bay that made Dean’s blood chill.

“Dean,” Sam was tugging at his arm, “Dean it’s invisible, right?”

“Sam,” Dean hissed, raising his rifle to his shoulder and aiming at the clearing ahead of them.

“But Dean if it’s invisible… how are we going to shoot it?”

The rifle cocked and the beast snarled at the same moment it occurred to Dean.

They weren’t the ambush. They were the bait.

“Get back,” he dropped the gun, grabbing Sam’s jacket and shoving him back and away from the hound that neither of them could see. Sam scrambled against him for a hold but Dean was still larger and stronger than his brother, and Sam tumbled backwards, rolling a few feet down the hill. Dean fumbled for the rifle, fingers cold and numb from waiting for so long and it slipped from his fingers.

“Dean!” Sam screamed from behind him. Dean spun around, thinking about how useless he was going to be, searching for an invisible dog.

A twig cracked. Dean fired and he saw the shot hit the soil. There was a yelp and it back from the side, along the bank that he and Sam were spread along.

The yelp dropped into a deep growl and Dean could see the leaf litter being knocked aside by great paws. He aimed, arms shaking.

“Shoot it!” Sam cried, “For God’s sake Dean shoot it!”

His finger jerked reflexively at the trigger and there was a low click.

The rifle had jammed.

He barely had a moment to wonder what mirror he must have broken to get such bad luck when the growl ended in a snap and his leg was pulled away from under him. A cry escaped his mouth and he flailed, gun falling and cold earth rising up to meet him. The white hot jaws vanished from his calf, only for a large weight to settle on top of him, claws tearing.

He was aware of hot breath and the smell of sulphur and brimstone as he tried to bring up his eyes instinctively to shield his face, or maybe to hit back at the monster when a shot rang out.

He coughed, breathing in a gasp of air as the weight vanished. Something wet splashed down onto him and he used his arms to push himself up, spotting Sam, dirty and wide-eyed with a gun aimed over Dean.

“Dean!” Sam cried, as there was another growl. In the air to Dean’s right the hazy being was bleeding black blood from one part of it, and it moved doggedly back towards the brothers.

Then another shot rang out, and then another. John materialised through the trees and Dean almost collapsed in relief at seeing his father.

The shots died and for a moment there was silence. Dean strained to see the invisible hound, to confirm that it was dead.

There was nothing… not even an imprint of a body on the ground.

Sam pulled himself back up the bank towards Dean. “Dean,” he choked out, “Oh God…”

Dean blinked, frowning at him. “What?” he asked, “I’m fine.”

“You…” Sam made a face, pressing his hands against Dean’s stomach, “You call this fine?”

Sam’s hands were covered with blood and Dean grabbed for them, “Shit… are you hurt?” he asked.

Sam pulled his hands back, shaking his head, “Dean…” and for the first time Dean was aware that something was wrong, “This isn’t my blood.”

And that was about when the pain finally overcame the adrenaline.

 

_Now_

Please let John hurry up, Sam mentally whispered, pressed against his brother. Dean’s eyes had slipped closed a while ago, and even now he shoved his brother just to hear the mumbled complaint.

“Don’t leave me,” Sam whispered, “Don’t… don’t leave me Dean.”

“M’not going to leave,” Dean’s eyelids fluttered, “Promise.”

“Jerk,” Sam sobbed.

There was no response.

 

_Later_

Sam would never be able to explain the relief to anyone of seeing the arrival of his dad with help, at least not until he stood beside Castiel and Gabriel years later and watched Dean walk off the train from the Capitol.

He’d realise later that it was the moment he’d stopped calling John ‘dad’ in his mind, and the moment the man wasn’t always right, that hunts weren’t a safe thing for children to be doing, that he shouldn’t have left them, first for bait, then for dead, alone in the forest.

A few years later Sam realised that children shouldn’t be killing each other in a sick game, and it was at that point he realised how screwed up the world was and the point he set his heart on changing, even a small slice of it.

For Dean that was the moment his faith in his father toppled, if only slightly. It was the moment that he realised he couldn’t be weak like that again, because if he was gone who would be left to look after Sammy (certainly not John).

Looking back the pair would realise that this was the moment they finally lost their dad for good. Half of him was already gone, torn away the night their mom had died leaving only a broken, revenge driven shell of a man. The rest collapsed in, unable to support himself any longer and finally he stopped running, and just let himself be hit with the deluge that inevitably came with settling.

One of which was that with adrenalin high hunts no longer an option, alcohol became a frequent companion.

The second of which, Sam and Dean had caught the thrill and excitement of the hunt. Sam realised the danger, but Dean had a thirsting need to prove himself, to prove that he wasn’t weak and within days of being declared fit to move he was out there again, like a predator stalking down prey.

And Sam followed behind him, and realised that it wasn’t just about the hunt. It was about the saving people too.

It was in their blood (their families blood), and the hunts that John did not take, threw back to the person who had handed them to him, still ended up dealt with, and the absent father rarely noticed the extra bruises or cuts on his limping, but cheerful (and darkened) sons.

And if Dean still flinched at the bark of a dog, even six months later… well John certainly didn’t notice, and if Sam notices how Dean never petted the stray retriever three streets along anymore, or how he cringed when howls pierced the night well…

He never said anything.


	4. The prison of its prey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Sam watches. Castiel prays. Gabriel runs. And Dean barely even dares to hope)

_“He does not sit with silent men_

_Who watch him night and day;_

_Who watch him when he tries to weep,_

_And when he tries to pray;_

_Who watch him lest himself should rob_

_The prison of its prey_.”Oscar Wilde

 

**The prison of its prey**

Sam doesn't want to watch. He wants to curl up into a ball and pretend that everything is okay and that Dean isn't going to die and that he is with him and safe and...

It's no use. John is sober and the television crackles to life. Sam holds his head up because he is twelve and not ten and he has to be brave for Dean, who volunteered to save him.

Sam can be brave. He can shoot a bull’s-eye at twenty metres. He can knock down men twice his size.

He can be brave, but for the moment he lets himself sag slightly against the blue-eyed boy sitting next to him.

Castiel wraps one arm around him and he takes comfort in that small gesture. He can see Gabriel's back sitting on the front step, and the same part of him that knows Castiel will be watching this with him knows that Gabriel can't bear it. Dean is like a brother to him, and the pair are more alike than they'll let themselves believe.

Sam wraps him arms around his knees and watches John, taking in his father's silence... The way he won't look at Sam.

John had always been so driven, throughout most of their childhood. It was only recently... Since the disastrous hunt of four years ago that he had finally lost that drive. Some part of Sam was grateful that they had never had to see this side of John until now, the weak and defeated man who looked so broken, but another part still hated that all they had been left with was the military instructor.

Sam wonders if John could, if he would have volunteered for Dean. Would he have volunteered for Sam? Was he happy that Dean had taken his order of 'watch out for Sammy' seriously or did he wish it was Sam in that arena?

Dean, from what Sam had seen of the pre-games training had been hiding in the shadows. He was brash, flirty... Basically his usual self without that air of danger around him that he usually carried. He wore the mask that he usually presented to the world, and Sam was grateful that he was one of the few who got to see beyond to the righteous man buried beneath.

He knew that if Dean did pull off his elaborate facade and won the games he would not be welcomed back as the hero he was. He would be an oddity... Having volunteered. He would be a liar... For blending into the shadows. And he would be a murderer... For winning. For being the last man left standing.

Sam didn't care. Castiel would know it was Dean. Gabriel would know it was Dean.

He would still know it was his big brother and that nothing would have changed.

Nothing would change.

Sam would make sure of that.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> 

Gabriel can’t stand to be there.

It was stupid of him. Petty even. He was being a thrice-cursed coward and running away.

He and Dean had laughed over plans and ideas to leave, to not watch the games... To not let another year pass with them having to watch their little brothers being entered into a game of life and death.

He gave a bitter chuckle. Life and death. They weren't even that. The games were death games and some part of him...no matter how much he hoped and believed, he knew Dean wouldn't walk out that arena alive and even if a green-eyed boy did return home, he would be kidding himself if he thought it would be the same green-eyed boy that had left.

He wished that he had never met Dean Winchester. He wished they hadn't gotten over their initial distaste of each other, hadn't gotten past destruction and stealing of each other’s property into humorous pranks against each other which somehow turned into tricks against their siblings and then had left them closer than intended.

He had been a coward before met Dean Winchester, idle in his dreams that the world was perfect.

It wasn't. Even here in District 4, one of the better of districts, life wasn't perfect. He knew that. But then the Winchesters showed up well travelled and with tales from other places and he had become disillusioned with his Heaven.

It wasn't the place, he realised now, it was the people, but he was discovering that all too late.

He wishes that he had more power, to protect the small group of family and friends that he had built. His mother had died when Castiel was born, and his father had vanished shortly after. It was, Gabriel understood now, the reason he and Dean always got on so well. They were both older brothers, with a younger brother to look after and a father who could win the award for 'Worst dad of the year'.

Gabriel's throat feels dry and he wonders when he first started of thinking of his best friend in past tense.

He shakes his head resolutely, because he wasn't going to be the eternal pessimist in this. He had to stay positive... For Sam... For Cas...

For Dean.

He stands there a moment longer before sighing. Dean was the brave (and stupid) one. Sam was the clever one. Castiel was loyal and kind hearted to everything from kittens to bees.

And Gabriel... He would always be a coward.

He stood up and walked away.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> 

Castiel hears his brother leave.

He knew that Gabriel would not stay.

Gabriel and Dean were too alike for their own good. He wonders if their positions were reversed and... If he could bear the thought... Had Gabriel had volunteered for him then Dean would not be watching. He would stay right up until he could bear it no longer and then would walk away in search of solitude and probably alcohol. And eventually once the action was over Cas would leave to comfort him, just the way he knew the littlest Winchester would later leave, once he knew Dean was safe to go and see that Gabriel was still breathing and to inform him that Dean was still breathing too and thus Gabriel couldn't hurt himself because otherwise Dean would kill him.

Although, Cas considers, Sam wasn't the youngest Winchester. But then he wasn't including the half-brother they had the other side of the district, a scrawny little five year old kid called Adam whose existence was known by everyone except John Winchester himself, especially considering his decent decline into alcoholism four years ago after the invisible dog incident which had left Dean with a fear of dogs, Sam with a fear of losing his brother and both brothers with the end of John Winchester as a responsible father.

Dean had been reckless, volunteering for his brother (and why, oh why must the Winchester run towards Death as if he was an old friend?), but Cas knew that Gabriel would probably do the same if positions were reversed. He considers that it’s possibly a trait that older siblings possess, to try and save their younger brother or sister. Then again maybe it as just them, and their screwed up families.

He has faith however that Dean would come back. Gabriel mocks him for his beliefs, but he maintains them all the same. Dean will come back.

He has to. Castiel doesn't dare think about what will happen if Dean falls in the arena. What it will do to Sam watching at home... To Gabriel... To John.

He doesn't know what it will do to him.

Castiel's belief in a divine power might fail, but he knows one thing is certain.

If there is one thing he can have faith in it is Dean Winchester.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> 

The pod slams shut and the sassy well-accented stylist smirked at him. The red tint to his eyes is clearer now in the harsh white lighting of...wherever they are.

"Give 'em hell squirrel," the guy nods at him, hands in the pockets of his really-expensive suit.

Dean swallows, and the floor jerks underneath him, lurching upwards. His stylist smiles thinly at him as he vanishes as the floor drops away from him and the ceiling rises to meet him.

He wonders if Sam and Cas and Gabe are watching him at home and then hopes they aren't, because he doesn't want them to see him die.

A voice in his head that sounds like Castiel tells him to 'have faith'. Castiel had said that that last time he had seen the blue-eyed boy and asked him 'look out for Sammy okay? If I don't come back look out for Sam.'

'You'll come back.' Castiel had stared at him emphatically. 'Have faith.'

Dean had laughed. 'In what? God?'

'Yourself,' and he hadn't been able to tear his gaze away from Castiel's blue eyes. Angel blue, Sam had called them. 'I have faith in you.' and that was when Castiel had been pulled away by Peace Keepers and the last thing Dean was aware of was the fading grip of Castiel's hand on his shoulder.

He could feel it now, as if it was a burning handprint. Just as Sam's necklace was a burning weight around his neck and his father's voice rang in his ears.

'Win this,' was the only thing Gabriel had told him, 'Win this you idiotic fool or I'm never speaking to you again.'

Gabriel wouldn't be watching. He knew that with the same certainty that he knew Castiel and Sam were. He knew his family.

He had no idea if John was watching.

(Sam watches. Castiel prays. Gabriel runs. And Dean barely even dares to hope)


	5. For blood and wine are red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Nothing’s the same after Dean returns.)

_“He did not wear his scarlet coat,_

_For blood and wine are red,_

_And blood and wine were on his hands_

_When they found him with the dead,_

_The poor dead woman whom he loved,_

_And murdered in her bed.”_ Oscar Wilde

 

**For blood and wine are red**

Nothing is the same after Dean returns.

He’s like a stranger, and nobody looks at him. He is like the dead, passing through unseen.

He broke the rules but he still won. He brought them victory. They should be proud, they should celebrate, but instead he’s like a shameful little secret.

Sam doesn’t seem to change. At least not on the surface, but later they argue, and Sam snaps at him. “You’re weaker since you came out the game!” and Dean thinks he breaks just a little more. Because he went through that for Sam, he did everything for Sam, but Sam never seemed to care.

Castiel didn’t care. It was his only relief, that Castiel was there, happy and supporting and someone to rely on.

Gabriel varied. He went between pretending it didn’t happen, to making stupid jokes about all the different ways that Dean could have died. They aren’t appreciated, and it just makes everything awkward.

The Capitol love it. He heads out on his victory tour six months later, and while most of the districts glare at him, the Capitol eat it up. They whisper names behind his back. Grand, stupid names. He was like an angel, some had said. An angel of death. Or maybe an archangel, a terrifying and powerful weapon.

He had torn through the competition, killed without mercy, and he was being praised for it.

Dean didn’t want any of it. He wasn’t proud of what he did, and some part of him wishes that he had died in that arena, with its crumbling buildings and broken streets.

He meets a man in district 9 who stared at him. He’s old and withered and he takes Dean’s hand and breaks out in a nasty leer. “You’re dead inside, boy,” he says. “Aren’t you? Look at everyone, hungering for attention, for love, for food, for sex… but you… You don’t hunger because inside you’re already dead.”

Dean pulls away, and tries to forget about it, but the words haunt him, cling to him. He finds Bobby instead, his old friend in District 6, and tries to move past the games.

He knows that it’s not going to just go away. It’s not ever going to leave him, and he’s seventeen, but already his eyes are far, far older.

But he’s alive. He’s been through Hell and he’s still here, still breathing.

That has to count for something, right?


	6. A noose about his neck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (A year later she watches the brother, and thinks they should have known (nobody did))

_“He does not die a death of shame_

_On a day of dark disgrace,_

_Nor have a noose about his neck,_

_Nor a cloth upon his face,_

_Nor drop feet foremost through the floor_

_Into an empty place”_ Oscar Wilde

 

**A noose about his neck**

It’s a year since her sister’s name got called out in the reaping and she stepped forwards with those fateful words.

It’s a year since she watched through the games, so many of them blurring together until the only one that stands out is the one she watched from start to finish with the green-eyed boy from District 4 who volunteered for his brother when he wasn’t supposed to.

It surprises her that it took her this long to watch what happened next.

“What do you mean his brother was in the arena?” she is horrified.

Haymitch stares at her. “His younger brother,” he tells her, “Not the bastard half-brother… I mean the other one… Sam.”

Sam and Dean Winchester. She remembers the names now.

“But he volunteered for Sam,” she tells him.

Haymitch scoffs, “And then Sam follows in his brother’s footsteps and volunteers for a friend.”

She drags out the video to watch. It’s two years later and the name read out is ‘Castiel Milton’. A blue-eyed boy with dark hair can be seen, and up on the stage she can see Dean’s horrified expression before he schools it into emotionless perfection.

The blonde had been mentoring all of one year, taking over from his own mentor, an elderly woman by the name of Mags. The kids he had been sending into the arena had been his own age, and even now, only nineteen, he is only one year older than the boy preparing to walk up to the platform to join the blonde haired girl already trembling.

She’s expecting it, but it’s still surprising when Sam steps forwards and volunteers himself. Dean moves towards his younger brother as Sam shakes of Castiel’s protests, whispering something fiercely to him.

Castiel draws back and Dean stops, staring at Sam with horror, unmasked.

Sam stares at his brother and just like that Dean steps down, at least for now.

She wonders at the row they must have had later. At the angry words passing between the brothers. Sam is older now than when his name came out of the reaping ball at twelve, but fourteen isn’t that much of a better age to die at.

“Whatch’a watching?” Haymitch sounds drunk. He usually sounds drunk and Katniss glares at him, because she thought they had agreed he was going to forgo the alcohol.

“Past games,” she answers, “Looking at victors,” she recalls how the conversation came about, and blinks at the screen and wonders if Dean or Sam Winchester got reaped for the Quarter Quell.

“District 4’s victor is called Finnick Odair,” Haymitch answers her unasked question. “He was mentored by Dean a few years ago.”

She watches the screen, staring at the young floppy haired boy she knows is going to win, wanting to know how he did it, how he followed in his brother’s footsteps… “And the female tribute?” she asks.

“Mags,” Haymitch slumps down beside her, peering at the screen, “She followed in the brother’s example and volunteered for Annie. That poor girl never got over the experience of her games.”

“She’s the one who only survived because she knew how to swim.” Katniss says softly.

The games on the screen pan on, running through the opening ceremony, where Sam and the female tribute from 4, long blonde hair and a mole between her eyebrows smile and wave, dressed like some kind of sea gods in sparkling gold and netting. And Sam … Sam looks like a king, his eyes dark but still wide and soulful.

Peeta joins them at that point, slipping in silently without a word. He sits on Katniss’s other side, and turns the volume up a few notches.

The people at home on the televisions rarely see anything to do with the mentors, but this year it’s the only thing they want to see. Dean’s brother is four years younger, and two years younger than Dean during his own games. People have no idea what is going to happen but after the older brother's own blood bath they expect Sam, even at two years younger than Dean's own games, to be lethal.

He's not. Instead he's all cute puppy dog eyes and floppy hair and dimples. They all start talking to him with the intention of being wary and not liking him but by the end their lips twitch into a smile. Sam Winchester goes from the most lethal to the most trusting and the people at the Capitol turn away and sigh because the cute boy is nothing like his brother, which means he is soon to die.

He makes friends with the girl from his District, the blonde called Jess. He chats with the other tributes, the girl from 12, the pair from 3, the pair from 5 and avoids the Career pack entirely. He doesn’t try to join them, and they cast him dark looks.

The two from 1 this year are sleek and smooth. They’re not as bloodthirsty as the blonde pair from Dean’s games, but they’re calm and calculating and just as dangerous. The girl tries to talk to him, to pull him into their pack but he just shrugs her off and moves on to chat to the mullet-wearing boy from 5.

The boy from 2 tries to talk to him too. He’s all charms and snide comments, and his amber eyes gleam yellow in the harsh lighting of the training room. Sam smiles and nods and then ducks away, and Katniss would be lying if she saw anything other than disappointment in the Career tribute’s yellowed-gaze.

“He doesn’t look like a killer,” Peeta remarks, as they watch his interview. The floppy haired boy talks about how his brother was annoyed, but knew he could look after himself and ended up reciting a stupid movie quote to him. The audience laugh and there is nothing threatening about the boy at all.

“Neither did Dean,” Katniss whispers, and she waits for the moment she knows this boy will snap and the laughter will fall out of his eyes leaving them dark and empty. He’d look like his brother then, and even though they look like distant cousins in looks, she’s seen them mirror each other’s movements, and she can see that their eyes are the same.

They’re both killers, underneath the green-eyes.

As most people were expecting, Sam takes off with the girl from 4 at start of the games. They grab a measly backpack much like Katniss had, and get as far away from the Cornucopia as possible. The girl’s name is Jess, and she looks at Sam in a manner that confuses Katniss for a long time (It’s only a lot later that she realizes that she and Peeta looked at each other like that).

Sam and Jess stay far away from everybody else. Meanwhile the girl from 3 dies, the girl from 7 and the two from 10, the girl from 11, and the boy from 12. The games inch forwards slowly, bit by bit.

The cornucopia for this arena sits in a graveyard. The rest of the landscape sprawls out around it with not a bit of greenery in sight. This arena is all rock and harsh, sharp lines. The ground is dry, cracked dirt, and there’s the remains of a lake the one side, with outcrops of rock around where Sam and Jess hide and lurk, finding caves with dripping pools of water. The rest of the place is dry, with one stream near the centre where the Careers camp.

It’s kind of like hell, this arena. It doesn’t rain, and it appears to be never-ending heat and dust.

The boy from 7 dies from suicide. It’s usually avoided in the games, but this kid was crazy. Peeta winces as he stabs himself in an eye, rambling on about yellow-eyes. When the helicopter arrives to collect him the dust flies around his body as if he’s the eye of the storm, controlling the air with just his mind.

The pair from nine seem to be just as skilled with silver swords as in previous years. They set a trap, burning part of the dry brush land on one edge of the arena. It kills the boy from 3, a young Asian kid who was really clever, and had been surviving thus far through his brains, and also the girl from 5, dark haired Pam. The pair are only found once the fire died, their bodies burnt out corpses.

The thing Katniss found disturbing was the sightless gaze, as their eyes had been burnt out of their skull

The pair from 9 get hunted and killed by the Careers, the pack staying strong. Similarly the mullet haired boy from 5 is killed by them, specifically the amber eyed boy from 2.

The boy from 8 kills the girl from his district, cutting off her head. He’s a dark skinned teenager, and he used to have a sister back home, but apparently she had been reaped last year, for she was certainly no longer alive.

Yet still Sam and Jess stay hidden, stay alive. They team up with the girl from 12, a dark haired doe-eyed thirteen year old named Sarah.

Sam is cute and innocent and after a week of no bloodshed where he still stands loyal next to Jess the Capitol give up on him. He isn't his brother and there is no killer in this boy.

The yellow-eyed boy from 2 kills his pack mates from 1. The boy dies simply from a knife to the chest, and the girl gets cut open, and they fall together, their blood pooling together on the ground.

Katniss knows Sam will win, but she finds herself crossing her fingers for a cheerful red-head from 3. She feels only a slightest bit grateful then, that the girl dies not a violent bloody death, but from dehydration in the desert, a smile on her face at whatever fantasy or vision she had conjured up to live in during her last moments.

The pair from 6 realize that they’re in the final eight, and so cut their losses and split. The boy has a funny accent and a twisted sense of humor, while the girl is pale and ghost-like, almost like death itself.

It’s therefore not surprising when she is killed by the remaining career from 2. But it doesn’t stop Katniss from shivering at the way she didn’t even try to fight, just accepted death with almost a smile.

The sassy blonde from 6 runs into Sam’s little trio, but they part without shedding blood. The same can’t be said for when he encounters the chubby boy from 11, Zach, Katniss picks up the name, and the boy from 11 ends up with a blade through his throat, right up through the roof of his mouth into his head.

Then the cameras show almost nothing but the boy from 2, or the boy from 8. Both are favorites to win when the boy from 2 with yellow eyes takes out sassy blonde. 6 dies with shadows casting over him making them almost look like spread eagled wings.

“I thought he was meant to be dangerous,” Peeta observes an engineered collision course between Sam’s trio and the boy from 8.

“He is,” Katniss whispers, watching with horror as Sarah from 12 is choked to death, and then Jess killed too with a simple slash across her stomach, slicing her open.

But it was the wrong move because Sam drops whatever façade he was holding of the cute, innocent younger brother and is suddenly all blazing eyes, dark with fury. He fights ruthlessly, and Katniss sees his brother in him as the two struggle on screen.

The boy from 8 seems to refuse to die, even going as far as attempting to bite his way through Sam’s throat.

He manages to tear the skin, before Sam grabs hold of a piece of wire that had been in the backpack, and wraps it around the guy’s head.

He tightens it like a noose until slowly but surely, the other boy stops breathing, but Sam doesn’t stop until it starts to cut through blood and bones and only then does he push the other one off in disgust.

Sam trembles from the fight, and then goes about seeing to his friends. It’s too late though, and he seems to realize that. He seems reluctant to leave them, and pulls matches from his pocket and places the girls side by side.

The almost look like Rue in the meadow, sleeping amongst flowers, but then he drops the match and nobody can sleep in fire.

Jess is dead. The desert burns around the pair from 4 and Jess dies in burning flames and smoke.

(Sam can still smell the scent of her burning flesh in his dreams for years afterwards.)

Jess dies and Sam is alone and Sam has nothing to lose.

Sam turns and walks away and doesn’t look back. The younger brother doesn’t stop either, and Katniss knows he isn’t going to stop until he finds the last tribute, the boy from 2 with the freaky eyes.

They seek each other out like a homing beacon, and end up back where they started, at the Cornocopia graveyard. Sometimes during the games the previously empty gravestones have gained the names of all the tributes that have died. Brady, Casey, Kevin, Ash, Pam… Yet the pair are too far gone to even look twice at them.

It’s a bloody fight, and at one point Sam is down, a knife in his back and the yellow-eyed kid laughs over him.

“Did you think you were a soldier? The boy-victor?” he laughs, “Just couldn’t follow in Dean’s footsteps, could you?” He straddles Sam, and the younger boy winces in pain, whimpering. Slowly and confidently he wraps his hands around Sam’s throat. “I’m going to enjoy this,” he whispers.

Sam sinks a knife into his side. It’s bone handled, almost ornamental with engravings in the blade. It enters between the ribs and the boy freezes, frowning, and wincing as he looks down at the blade handle sticking out of it.

“Would ya’ look at that?” Sam mutters, and he looks like he’s slipping already. “I win. So I win.”

And if the capitol are surprised to see the cute and charming boy turn and transform into the raging bloodthirsty killer they had expected well... They shouldn't be.

(Dean watches as something in his brother breaks but doesn't feel anything because he himself is already broken. He's been to hell and its Sam's turn now.)

It ends as the other boy falls and the canon sounds. Sam doesn’t exactly stand to celebrate and they whisk him away to heal him up before he dies and leaves the Capitol with no victor.

There is footage of his older brother holding him close, and the pair are wrapped so tightly around each other that it’s impossible to distinguish the two from each other. Then Dean’s green eyes flash up to the cameras, and it’s a silent warning, because they’ve played the games, and they’ve won.

Katniss is surprised they aren’t dead already.

“Thank God we’re not facing them,” Peeta whispers. “No wonder the Capitol leave them alone.”

She nods, jerkily, and some part of her wishes that she was going to make it out of this one, so she could spend the rest of her time with her sister and mother.

But Haymitch’s words come back to her. They are never going to let her go. She will be dragged out, year after year and put on show.

Some part of her feels almost relieved at the thought of dying to save Peeta. It’s a good way to die, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 Brady Casey   
> 2 Azazel XXX   
> 3 Charlie Kevin   
> 4 Sam Jess   
> 5 Ash Pam   
> 6 Balthazar Tessa   
> 7 MaxMiller XXX   
> 8 GordonWalker Lenore   
> 9 Uriel Hester   
> 10 XXXX XXX  
> 11 Zachariah XXX  
> 12 XXXSarahBlake 
> 
> Brady (Sam’s demon friend that introduced him to Jess) dies with a knife wound much like on the show. Casey (Dean’s S3 demon friend) has the blood pooling out of her, much like in her episode (Sin City) where the blood of her and her partner pooled in the devil’s trap.  
> Azazel couldn’t exactly be shot, since they don’t along guns in the arena, but he got knifed by the demon killing knife after Sam had an injury to his lower back, much like what killed him in Cold Oak.  
> Charlie goes away into a fantasy landscape (Oz) dying peacefully, because I didn’t have the heart to kill her violently. Kevin is killed a fire with his eyes burned out, because he died from angel smiting on the show. The pair from nine are both angels, so they caused the death.  
> Jess got slashed across her belly, and later set alight so it looked like she was sleeping in fire.  
> Ash got killed by Azazel, which is what happened in the show when the roadhouse burned down. Pam was killed similar to Kevin, due to angels’ starting a fire that ended up with a dead body and eyes burned out of her skull.  
> Balthazar, the sassy blonde, gets killed with angel wings shadowing out over him. Tessa gets all the ‘like death’ descriptions because she’s a reaper.  
> Max, who was going to telekinetically stab his mother in the eye in the show, dies from suicide, like in the show, and rambles on about yellow-eyes because he was a psychic kid.  
> Gordon tries to bite Sam before getting his head chopped off with wire. Not quite barbed wire, but it still worked, and Sam still got his bloody, dark section. Lenore, being a vampire, was killed by Gordon with the loss of her head. I made District 8 the monster district.  
> Uriel and Hester who were just two generic angels get killed by demons. While in show Hester was killed by Meg, Uriel got killed by Anna, but I just generalized and got the demon pair from 1 to kill them.  
> Zachariah get stabbed through the head, much like on the show. Good riddance.  
> Sarah is choked to death, similar to the hex bag that choked her on show.  
> XXXX means nameless deaths that were just there to die without descriptions, because I was running out of SPN characters.  
> The central graveyard is based off the Devil’s Gate in Wyoming, and then the landscape around it was based on Hell being hot, barren and dead.


	7. A man must die

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (She never thought she’d get a chance to meet them, the brothers Winchester, still alive even while a thousand rumours painted them as dead.)

_“For oak and elm have pleasant leaves_

_That in the spring-time shoot:_

_But grim to see is the gallows-tree,_

_With its adder-bitten root,_

_And, green or dry, a man must die_

_Before it bears its fruit!”_ Oscar Wilde

 

**A man must die**

District 13 is cramped with the many people living there. It’s rare that she gets an opportunity to go topside, to breathe and to remind herself that the open air and earth and sky still exist.

Looking back she wonders why she hadn’t met them sooner, living in the close confinements she would have been expecting it. But she doesn’t. Not for ages. She doesn’t even know they exist there, not until the screen shows a picture of the Capitol, their route in to finally end this rebellion, pods and traps set everywhere, and someone standing snorts.

“It’s a goddamn death trap,” a deep voice scoffs, “And how many do you expect to get through that alive?”

“We can do it,” Finnick doesn’t look up, and there is hope in his eyes as he looks past Katniss at the man behind her. She turns, sees green eyes and blonde hair.

He has his arms crossed, is staring at Finnick over Katniss’ head. Finally he nods, and his green eyes flicker down.

“If you’ve got anything to say, Dean, I’d say it now.” Haymitch stalks over, glaring at the man.

Katniss feels her mouth drop open a little bit, “Dean? Dean Winchester?” she asks.

He finally looks at her, meeting her gaze. When he smiles it’s charming, and he looks just like he had in the ring, seventeen and young. Now he’s twenty-six, twenty-eight… she’s not really sure, but he still looks the same. “I’m honored,” he smirks, “Even the Mockingjay knows my name.” His soul-deep gaze is broken up as he flinches away, yelping slightly as the man next to him non-so subtly stands on his foot.

“Shut up, Dean,” Sam Winchester hisses, and oh wow, he was tall. Katniss breathes out, heart racing, because nobody had told her there were other victors around, other than the ones in the recent games.

She never thought she’d get a chance to meet them, the brothers Winchester, still alive even while a thousand rumours painted them as dead.

They don’t quite match how she imagined them, a ruthless pair of siblings like Gloss and Cashmere. Instead she feels like she’s looking at a reflection and their smiles and jokes hide something broken and taped together with masking tape.

Someone calls out for them and Dean grins at her again, before moving away with a wave. A shorter man with brown hair slicked back is bending over a computer and Sam nods at her before backing away.

“He was my mentor,” Finnick breathes on her neck.

“Sam?”

“No, Dean. Sam didn’t mentor. Dean wouldn’t let him. It didn’t stop him teaching me how to fight though.”

She glances over her shoulder at him, “Are…” she stops, because she doesn’t know exactly what it is she wants to ask.

Finnick shrugs, “Yeah, that’s pretty much how I reacted.”


	8. Such a debt to pay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (“We do what we do and we shut up about it.” Sam parrots Dean’s words back to him. Sam’s leaving him and Dean knows he’s not going to win this argument.)

_“And strange it was to see him pass_

_With a step so light and gay,_

_And strange it was to see him look_

_So wistfully at the day,_

_And strange it was to think that he_

_Had such a debt to pay.”_ Oscar Wilde

 

**Such a debt to pay**

"What the hell were you thinking?"

"Dean I..."

"Exactly. You weren't. What the hell gave you the bright idea to volunteer?"

"You would have... If you'd been eligible or if you hadn't already been. Because it's okay when the great Dean Winchester volunteers but Sam? No, I can't volunteer, not even to save my friend."

"Cas is eighteen. He would have been fine."

"Don't make me laugh! Little Castiel, lover of nature and bees and you? He couldn’t hurt a fly. He's Mr Perfect, and from what you go on about him..."

"Sam..."

"Brave Castiel, valued and trusted Castiel, top of the Christmas tree Castiel. Don't you understand Dean... I did this for you! You saved me and now I'm repaying the favour."

"You would have done this even if it hadn't been Cas' name, wouldn't you."

"I don't... No... I just know that I couldn't let him die. And then I thought about what you would do... Had done... And I stepped forwards."

"You're a fool."

"That makes two of us."

"What is it that you tell me? We do what we do and we shut up about it. So now I'm gonna do what I have to, just like you..."

"You're not me Sam..."

"And I'm not a twelve year old kid either. You volunteered to save me and I'm gonna' do this to save Cas."

"Cas can look after himself!"

"Can he though? Yeah, I thought so. Whereas me... You know I can walk out of there Dean."

"And so do all the other tributes. I might as well paint a giant red marker sign on your back saying 'dangerous' after my games. They know I'm not going to let you go in without knowing my tricks."

"Your tricks? You mean Dad's tricks. I can look after myself."

"Yeah and you're going to be number one tribute to die. Little brother of a victor. He'll be dangerous. He needs to go. You're not going to stand a chance Sam, not when they gang up against you."

"You really think I'd try to play the Careers like you did? That almost got you killed what with Alistair and all. No, I've got a plan and as my mentor you'll support me."

"I wish you hadn't done it Sam. Outside the arena I can protect you but once we're in there..."

"Dean, you're always so obsessed over looking out for me... Don't you realise that I'd do the same for you? I mean... Cas is my friend but... I'm doing this for you. So you have someone else, other than me."

"If you die Sam I don't think I can..."

"I'm not going to die. Why don't you trust me?"

"Because I can't help you in the arena Sam. I can't stand the thought of sipping wine and eating fancy foods as I watch you fight to determine whether you live or die!"

"Then how do you think I felt Dean? You're being a hypocrite!"

"I can't carry the burden of the games this time, but I sure as hell can carry you through it and make sure you come out the other end alive."

"Did you... You realise you just kind'a quoted..."

"Shut up."


	9. All the souls in pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Dean’s a hunter. It’s in his blood. It’s almost too easy to bring the Career pack to his knees. (the line between monster and human blurs)).

_“And I and all the souls in pain,_

_Who tramped the other ring,_

_Forgot if we ourselves had done_

_A great or little thing,_

_And watched with gaze of dull amaze_

_The man who had to swing.”_ Oscar Wilde

 

**All the souls in pain**

He remembered the eyes most of all. The wide, pleading depth conveying unspoken words and pleas and the slight sliver of defiance, hate and anger right to the end.

He could still hear their laughter ringing in his ears, although that might have been because of the group lounging around the campfire. He ducked his head, slipping a knife into his boot and another up his sleeve unseen. Then he grabbed a pack containing food and stalked back over to the other five careers.

"You took your time darlin'" the boy from 1 drawled. His gaze latched onto Dean as though he was a piece of prey although whether he was considering Dean's weaknesses or strengths it was impossible to determine.

"Food," Dean threw the pack down in front of Ruby, the girl from his district. She flinched, startled, and turned to glare at him. He ignored her.

“You know,” Lilith grins at him, but it speaks of nothing nice, “I’m almost sad we never got to see your brother in here. I wonder how he would have done. I mean… you’re cute, but he’s just adorable, isn’t he?”

Just for that, Dean slumped down the opposite side of the fire from her, near the boy from 2 with the scar running along his cheek.

The blonde boy leered at him, "You remind me of my brother," he directed towards Dean conversationally. "Except he'd never have volunteered for me." Dean couldn't remember his name. He didn't want to if he was honest with himself, he didn't want to know the name of the tributes that were all dead meat walking.

He was a dead man walking already too, and he knew it. If he couldn't pull this off, if they turned on him too early he was dead.

But if he was dead then Sam would be alone and that was unacceptable.

Luke (he thought that was his name) took his stony silence as a cue to continue talking. "My brother and I, we don't get on. He's the good, obedient son while I..." he laughed, but it was a cold and bitter sound, "I'm the one who protests and rebels. Dad's probably happy that my name came out instead of his precious little Mi-"

"Are you really monologue-ing?" Dean snapped finally. "Because dude just no... This sounds like some sort of prepared speech you've been planning." He was regretting his decision to sit next to Luke. At the moment Lilith looked like the better option. Then again... He glanced up... Ruby was making puppy dog eyes at the blonde girl and next to her Alistair was laughing. He glanced back to the duo from 2. He'd stick with Luke and Polly (or whatever their names were) over the demonic duo from 1 any day.

The red-head was sharpening a knife, a lethal blade that was more of a short sword. It grated each time she ran the stone over it and the sound sent a shiver down his spine.

"You see that's what I don't get about you," Luke leaned closer and the red-head looked up with interest. "You volunteer but you don't stand a much better chance than little Sammy. So all you're going to achieve is that you die in his place."

"Who says I'm going to die?" Dean snarled a little bit too much fire in his voice and for a moment the duo from 2 stared at him and he dropped his gaze.

It felt a little bit too much like submitting and he hated it.

The red-head grinned at him, lips curling into a smug self-satisfied smirk. "That's the problem with the pair of you from District 4." Her voice dropped to a low whisper. "You're too obedient."

Dean fumbled with the necklace around his neck, feeling the cold metal against his warm skin. The scarred boy leers at him, enjoying his obvious nerves. "You guys are going hunting tomorrow," he hated the way hunting referred to people and not monsters.

"Yeah," he suddenly appeared less keen, more timid and the pair from 2 lost interest, bored already of the conversation.

Luke nodded, "We're guarding the camp. Unless you want to stay and..."

"No... No it's okay..." he didn't try to hide his apprehension, and the blonde looked amused.

"Happy hunting then," he said, but the words were empty and hollow, and if that wasn't a warning suggesting that the rest were planning on turning him around and stabbing him in the back as soon as they had the opportunity then he didn't know what was.

Demons and monsters he could understand. But people were crazy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there were going to be more parts? Originally? I can't remember, but there were going to be scenes about the four - Sam, Gabriel, Cas and Dean getting out of District 4 after Katniss' Quarter Quell. And some stuff with Dean and Finnick. And I was going to go in depth with Benny and Dean in the arena, but I lost the motivation.
> 
> Hope anyone reading enjoyed the parts that I did write, I kind of like the little universe I built here, even if it wasn't that long.


End file.
